


butterscotch and cinnamon

by aalphard



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling, Fluff, Hinata is a Big Nerd, Implied Sexual Content, Kageyama Tobio is an idiot, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aalphard/pseuds/aalphard
Summary: The day they first met was a rainy day. The sky was covered in grey clouds and the wind splattered the droplets all over their faces when Tobio finally approached him, the boy with orange hair and porcelain skin, and it felt like he had reached the end of a cycle. His voice was like a breeze early in the morning, like the warmth of early sun rays when they get to your skin through the curtains – his voice was like freshly baked cinnamon cookies, and Tobio had always loved cinnamon cookies – and his eyes were the most beautiful color Tobio had ever seen, glistening and drawing him in every time they closed and opened rapidly as he tried to keep the water droplets out.His lashes were long and wet and dark and Tobio wanted to plant a kiss to them, to hold his hair in his hands and see for himself if it was as soft as it seemed.or hinata shouyou likes his coffee way too hot.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu (minor)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 191





	butterscotch and cinnamon

The first time he’d seen him, he had a smile on his face. It wasn’t a happy smile – more like he was _terrified_ and trying to conceal it by hiding it with a smile. He was surrounded by people – and judging by their paint-splattered jumpers, Tobio thought they were from the Art Department –, but even then he seemed _lonely_ , fidgeting with his sleeves and looking away whenever someone made eye contact with him. It felt like he was muttering something to himself when he thought no one was paying attention. Tobio was.

He heard some people talking about the weird guy from the Art Department who never went out after class. They thought he was weird and stupid and that he was wasting his youth by staying inside his dorm all weekend. Tobio thought he was beautiful, poetic even. Because there was something about him, something so utterly _his_ in the way he had his own little world even though he was surrounded by noise that Tobio couldn’t do anything but wish he could get closer somehow. It made him want to desperately wish he could find out what he was always muttering under his breath, if it was a secret he didn’t want anyone to know – and Kageyama wanted to find out, wanted to relish in it and keep it to himself, what only that boy knew, what he really was.

“What’s his name?” He had asked Tooru the next day.

They were at the café right across the street everyone knew about. Their coffee was good, apparently. Not that Tobio would know. He only came here because Tooru dragged him every day after class, not really doing anything to hide his crush on the new barista they hired. Iwaizumi… _something_. Tobio didn’t really care. Tooru was a friend from his middle school years and while he had gone for Business, Tooru decided on something a little more _flashy_. He was always on the spotlight, after all – pursuing his degree in Fashion. It suit him.

“The redhead?” He blinked lazily at the crowd, slowly rolling his eyes back to Tobio.

“Yeah.”

“His name is Hinata. Hinata Shouyou, I think?” Tooru took a sip from his coffee. “He’s in the Art Department. Kuroo is always talking about how much Kenma wants to get closer to him and whatnot.”

So he _was_ in the Art Department after all.

“He likes his coffee way too hot,” Tobio squinted at him and Tooru chuckled, stealing glances at the barista. _Can you be any more obvious?_ “I once sat close to him when you ditched me and I heard the part-timer talking to him about it.”

_Right._

“I don’t like coffee,” Tobio had whispered out of habit.

“Yeah,” Tooru giggled. “Of course you don’t.”

Tobio had asked a few more people about it – and he always got the same information. His name is Hinata Shouyou. He doesn’t talk too much and can come across kind of rude. Asahi said he thinks he’s just shy. He hides himself behind his canvases and stays too long after class working on his paintings, probably so he doesn’t have to bump into people all the time. Eight out of ten professors consider him their favorite student. He’s smart, pretty and introverted, and people tend to avoid him because apparently he’s creepy when he’s quiet. He has a little sister. You can always find him at the library or the studio.

And, _of course_ , he likes his coffee way too hot.

One day, while walking towards the Linguistics building to meet up with Keiji, Tobio saw him looking from side to side as if he was nervous, as if he might have been doing something wrong. He decided on a whim to follow him – even though it was _stupid_ and he was going to be horribly late. Tobio saw him meeting up with a boy a little bit taller than he was himself, with a relaxed expression and yellow hair shaved at the sides. It seemed to be a little bit better when Tobio saw him getting on his tiptoes and _oh-so-casually_ peck the other boy in the lips – because it would make things a lot easier if he knew Shoyo wasn’t straight. If he knew he had a chance in the first place.

It made him all the more excited to meet up with Keiji, then. He didn’t even mind that he was the one paying for their tea and cookies. He had asked him about the guy and Keiji told him they were always breaking up and getting back together – it was bound to end, Keiji told him. Atsumu doesn’t really do relationships, Keiji told him. He’s just playing around.

Tobio remembered something Daichi had told him – about how he always knew what he wanted and could manipulate the circumstances to his own favor. He’d much rather be called _cautious_ , someone who thought a lot about what to do. The word _manipulative_ sounded too harsh – and still, Tobio couldn’t say anything back to him. Everyone knew he was like that, everyone knew he had a tendency to chase after what he wanted. He wasn’t ashamed of that.

The day they first met was a rainy day. The sky was covered in grey clouds and the wind splattered the droplets all over their faces when Tobio finally approached him, the boy with orange hair and porcelain skin, and it felt like he had reached the end of a cycle. His voice was like a breeze early in the morning, like the warmth of early sun rays when they get to your skin through the curtains – his voice was like freshly baked cinnamon cookies, and Tobio had always loved cinnamon cookies – and his eyes were the most beautiful color Tobio had ever seen, glistening and drawing him in every time they closed and opened rapidly as he tried to keep the water droplets out.

His lashes were long and wet and dark and Tobio wanted to plant a kiss to them, to hold his hair in his hands and see for himself if it was as soft as it seemed.

_My name is Shouyou_ , he had told him, and Tobio wanted to tell him he already knew that – because there was something in the way he _moved_ , in the way he _talked_ , that made Tobio want to tell him absolutely everything. But he smiled back and only answered that _and my name is Tobio._

That had been a nice day. Tobio found out Shouyou liked rainy days and that he really liked English literature – his bag was partially open when they sat across from each other on the café and Tobio could see his copy of _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ , slightly ripped at the edges – but no more than he liked Russian literature – his _Anna Karenina_ seemed to be in even worse condition – and that he _really_ liked coffee hotter than what would be considered drinkable, no sugar and so many pumps of vanilla Tobio wanted to ask if he didn’t get any stomachaches with that.

He also found out Shouyou liked yellow roses and lilies.

They started meeting up every day at the eastern gate of the Art Department. Never mind that Tobio had to run to make it in time or that Tooru scolded him when he started ditching their usual meet-ups for coffee. Tobio didn’t like coffee, after all. Shouyou always showed up with flushed cheeks, plaid scarves, jumpers that could probably fit two of him inside and tight jeans, a sweet smile on his face and a coy wave of his hand. Tobio thought he never wanted to see anything other than that.

His skin was soft and Tobio caught himself wondering if his lips would be as soft, if he would taste of those butterscotch and cinnamon pies you forgot you had in your fridge, so when you find them at the back you actually tear up because they’re amazingly good and there’s nothing else you’d rather taste. He couldn’t bring himself to ask him. Even when he intertwined their fingers and decided to rest his head on Tobio’s shoulder while talking about the chocolate ice cream they were having later in the day – even if, in the end, Tobio would always get vanilla and Shouyou, strawberry. He didn’t really mind – it was cute. He was cute.

One day he showed up and blurted out that _i broke up with him_ , he had said, and Tobio only stood there, not really knowing what to say. _Or maybe he broke up with me, it doesn’t really matter. It wasn’t going to work out, I already knew that_ , was what he said. Tobio wanted to grin, wanted to chuckle, because _yes, finally_ , but he didn’t. Instead, he whispered _I’m sorry_. Cold eyes stared back at him and Shouyou giggled before saying _I’m not._

As much as people thought he was weird, Shouyou thought the world was a compilation of beautiful things, of reasons to smile. He tried seeing the good side of things all the time, the ultimate optimist, even when it seemed everything was going wrong and there was absolutely no way you could get things right after messing up _that bad_. But there was always a way, he had said. Because _even on the worst days_ , he said, _there is a possibility of joy_. And Tobio didn’t have it within him to disagree.

It was a dark night, with no stars in the sky and no moon to be seen, when Shouyou curled up against him and sighed against his neck. Tobio thought he was going to die right then – when he slowly lifted his head and stared straight at him, looking him in the eyes and probably beyond it. Their hands were intertwined on top of Tobio’s chest, Shouyou’s hair tickling the sensitive skin of Tobio’s neck. Shouyou giggled before saying that _I think I might like you, Tobio_ , and even if he had answered with a simple _yeah, I think I might like you, too – you dumbass_ , what he really wanted was to touch his face and taste his lips, bringing him even closer. And when he fell asleep, mouth slightly parted and shirt riding up enough so Tobio could see his bellybutton, it only got stronger – the need to taste him. He wrapped his arms around him and held him tighter, hiding his face in his hair. Shoyo smelled like cinnamon cookies and paint.

There were no clouds in the sky when Tobio kissed him for the first time.

His lips were as soft as his skin, maybe even more, and he really did taste like butterscotch and cinnamon. Butterscotch, cinnamon and a weird mix of vanilla and coffee. It was _so good_ and _so sweet_ he thought he might get addicted – he, who never really liked sweet things before. He, who never really liked coffee before, who never really thought vanilla worked along with anything else besides vanilla. So Tobio kissed him one, two, three, a thousand times, until they both started to giggle, lips still connected, eyes twinkling and hands intertwined.

_You are beautiful_ , Tobio had told him in a whisper.

Shouyou only shook his head, orange hair spread out on Tobio’s white sheets. Then, with his voice lower than a whisper, he had said _but you’re more_.

_No, Shouyou_ , he wanted to say right then, as he dipped his head down again and captured his lips with his own one more time. _No one is prettier than you. No one has ever tasted like butterscotch and cinnamon pie like you do. And no one has had my heart before. It’s locked up in a silver box and you’re the only one who holds the key_.

He hoped Shouyou could understand what he meant by the way his lips moved, by the way his fingers locked his hair, by the way his hips grounded against his own. And when he opened his eyes, fiery golden-brown meeting dark blue, Tobio knew he did.

* * *

“Tobio?”

The whisper against his chest is what brings him back from his daydream. He yawns and looks down at the boy he holds in his arms – the white sheet that covers his lower half melting against his porcelain skin. He’s glued to Tobio’s side, his hair messy and standing up weirdly after tugging on it so much, completely out of his senses while they merged together over and over again. He smiled fondly at him and got himself a blush as an answer.

“Were you thinking weird things again?” He asks with a pout and Tobio can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

Almost immediately, Shouyou shrieks and hides his face on Tobio’s neck, his hair tickling the sensitive spot right behind his ear.

“You’re _so embarrassing_ ”, he whispers, nuzzling his neck. “I love you.”

_Yeah_ , he wanted to say back. Because he had been in love ever since he saw that weird orange hair sitting by the corner of the room, surrounded by paint-stained people. Had been ever since they talked about Russian literature even though Tobio knew absolutely nothing about that – and ever since then, he had already read Dostoevsky at least five times and even knew how to pronounce their names.

He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs that he was in love and this orange-haired dumbass was the one who held his heart captive. But everyone already knew that – the silver bands around their fingers, the trail of love bites they smeared on each other’s neck every night, the way they blushed ever-so-slightly whenever the other’s name came up in conversation. _Yeah_ , he wanted to say, _I think I’ve always been in love with you._

He liked coffee now.

He liked his coffee with a tiny bit of sugar and a pump of vanilla and maybe a tiny bit of cinnamon because it reminded him of the taste of his lips. Not that he would ever tell anyone that.


End file.
